A Thank You Message for Fanfiction Readers Returns
by Lasgalendil
Summary: Just a uh, a little something for all my biggest...fans-The Joker


Hi.

That's right, it's uh, it's Mister J here. With a little message of ah…appreciation. For you.

Ya see…

You all…

_(sycophantsdeadbeatswashupswa nnabeshavebeensneverwillsunw antedunappreciatedundervalue dlickspittlelosers)_

You uh, you _repel me_.

Crying alone in the dark, reading erotic fanfiction on a Friday night (it's not porn, it's only T!), commiserating your loneliness when you could be out here with ME. You could be calling up your local legislatures, introducing a little anarchy with some gasoline or matches or some well-placed underaged sexting to your state senators. But no. No. Not YOU. You? You stay at home, reading vomit-worthy Mary Sue stories about true love and romance and finding yourself and you write about the Batman and He. Is. _Mine._

(Mine forever.)

Ya see, I'm uh, I'm a bit confused here.

I'm not a _hero._ Not a _celebrity._ I am not some wanna-be-punk kid guitarist in a boyband going on global tour. So uh, so imagine my confusion to find myself up on this website. This disgusting website where you all uh, don masks of anonymity and share autoerotic/rape fantasies that would make your whore mother _blush._

Oh? Embarrassed, are we? Ashamed? Afraid? Too scared to tell your friends your deepest, darkest desires? Or are you just too tame _to act_ on them?

You, you sweet little thing, yes, you (Shh! Don't worry. Your depravity is safe with me.). You're a coward—I can see it in your eyes—and you, you disgust me. You write about my tragic past, my supposed long lost loves, all about your sick obsession with that bulge inside my pants. You pair me with Scary and Batsy and yourselves over and over and over again in some sick twisted carnival ride at the themepark of YOU and your insatiable sex-starved hormones. You uh, you could go out, you know. Meet boys. Or girls. Or both—don't worry, I'm a psychotic sociopath. Who am I to judge? You could meet Real. People. Right. Now. You could suppress that ache of loneliness and sexual repression against some equally desperate warm hunk of flesh. But you uh, you don't.

**WHY?**

Too…afraid? Society says not to? What is it? Hmmm? Peer pressure? Parents?

(…already mechanically self-sufficient?)

I uh, I'm not usually one to pass on free publicity. But this?

This is just _sickening._ You all…you all make me queasy. And that's from a guy who dresses as a Clown and eats in the Arkham Asylum cafeteria with a cellmate who screws kiddos and writes on the walls with his own shit. I've seen some craaaazy stuff here, folks. Believe me—I'm a man of my word.

So I have a message, here, folks! A message for you, my uh, my _sweetest, dearest, most devoted fans: _

No. Just _no_. I don't want you. I don't _need _you. _I. Don't. Like. You_.

**GO ****AWAY.**

This is J here and I uh, I cast you out.

Go cry in a hole somewhere, with weeping and gnashing of teeth. (Just don't go all emo on me and try to kill yourself. I don't need your ineptness at swallowing drain cleaner and a bunch of for show scars and still here tattoos tainting my image. Do you, uh, do you have any idea how _humiliating_ it is to be mentioned at your parents' next PTO meeting? The last thing I need right now is some sensationalized lawsuit with your sorry face for _cyberbullying.)_

Stop following me like a bunch of pathetic preening post-teen _groupies._ I'm an Agent of Chaos, not a pop culture phenomenon. I'm not a muse, not a musician, I'm a _Prophet._ I am Coyote. I am Loki. I am Lucifer. You can be a _convert_, but you can't just be a _fan._

Oh no. Not of me. Not of Silly. Old. Me.

Did you really think something as simple as fanfiction's firewall would protect you? Did you really think you were…._anonymous?_ (Did you really think you were uh, _safe?_)

I know _who_ you are.

I know where you _live._

I know _what you've done._

…_and I know you're reading this._

Why so serious? Isn't me sneaking into your bedroom in the dark _EX. ACT. LY_ what you all wanted?

…or should I send that sniveling Scarecrow instead?

Delete your browser history. Change your address. Change your name. It won't matter. Not in the end. In the end, I'll put a sa-_miiilllle_ on that face, that Glasglow Grin and Cheshire Smile you all just _ooh_ and _ahh_ about. And we'll put it up on Youtube for the rest of my so-called _fans _to see. Your idol is coming for you (yes, _you_.), and he's going to see you Face. To. Face.

And he's going to make a graven image of his own.

In the end, dearest reader, you'll be more than just a simple Believer. You'll be a _Martyr_. You'll be…

… _a Revelation._

_._

_._

_._

Just. Like. Me.

* * *

**AN: Just a dark idea that popped into my head tonight. The Joker's words, not mine (if you ask me, I think he's just a bit bitter about all the Bane-fics out there). Please, please, please don't take any of this seriously or as a threat.**

**Also, for more equally depressing insights, see A Thank You Message For Fanfiction Writers Begins and A Thank You Message for Fanfiction Writers Rises.**


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